Affection and Illusions
by Gypsy Love
Summary: Michael understands how George Michael feels about his cousin because he feels the same way about someone else, Gob.


Michael knew how his son felt about Maebe. He saw the looks and he caught everything he said about her, he only pretended to be oblivious. He knew that being oblivious was the kindest thing he could do for his son in these sort of circumstances. He knew, because he had dealt with something similar for all these years. He was attracted to someone he shouldn't be attracted to, and he'd tried to hide it and deny it in every way possible, he even got married and had George Michael and was going to move away, run away to Arizona every chance he got, but something kept pulling him back. Something and someone.

As he gazed out of the front door of the model home at the perfect California blue sky he saw Gob on the Segway. Gob, always taller and more slender than he was, his hair thinning into that severe widows peak, it did nothing to tarnish his beauty. As he got closer he could see the light freckles that crossed the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, he saw the round blue hazel eyes. He pretended to be annoyed with Gob because it easily hid his underlying desire. Gob could never know.

"Michael," he said in his dramatic way, pulling the Segway to a sudden stop by the front door. Michael looked beyond him at the miles of nothingness, of red dirt and sand molded into hills.

"Gob, up before noon today?" he said, his smile a half smirk and his tone sarcastic, but he gazed up at his older brother and swallowed hard.

"That's Lindsay," Gob said, looking around distractedly, and Michael noticed how the wind ruffled his white pants. His white pants made of some fine Italian linen, his silk black shirt with the black patterns woven within it, shimmering in the full morning California sun, his black leather sandals, Gob always looked like he was ready to drink Martini's on a yacht or hang out at a beachside café while he was always buttoned up tight into his work suits, his feet shoved inside the sensible work shoes.

"Gob, what are you doing here?" he said, his tone cutting and sharp, and maybe he hadn't meant to sound that mean. Gob glanced at him for a second with such profound hurt that he found himself ashamed. He knew the abuse Gob had suffered at their parents' hands growing up. They all had, but he thought Gob had it the worst. The look of hurt was fleeting and gone almost before he could register it, and Gob smiled at him, his straight white teeth seeming to gleam in the bright light.

"I just came to see you and hang out with you, Michael," he said, and Michael squinted at him and didn't believe him. More likely than not his father had sent him over here to get something, to look for something, to steal something. There were still files and records of sales that his father had hidden. There were still things he would reveal to one of them and not the other, and in that way he was still playing them against each other, still orchestrating fights like he did when they were younger.

"Yeah, well, Gob, I have to go to work. It's a weekday, and that's what responsible adults do, you know. They go to work," He glared pointedly at his brother, and there was that look again, that hurt, fragile look that he was seeing more and more. He hid it again, although it took a few seconds longer, and the sadness was still there despite his devil may care smile.

"I have work to do, too, Michael. Everyone doesn't live in your safe and boring nine to five world," With that he parked the Segway and brushed by him to go into the house, and he felt his shoulder tingle inside his suit when Gob went by.

The fights when they were little, he could see them all happening again. His father would say one thing to him and another to Gob and the glares would turn quickly to grabbing and punching. He'd wrap his arms around Gob's waist and pull him to the ground, his full weight on top of him for a second.

He could go into the office whenever he wanted to, and he saw the clock creep past nine as he went into the kitchen and leaned on the opposite counter from Gob. Inside his eyes looked darker, more hazel than blue. He watched him bring the porcelain white coffee cup to his lips and take a sip. He wanted to have another sarcastic little fight with him before he left, he wanted to mock wrestle him to the plush living room rug.

"So what did dad sent you over here today for, Gob?" Michael said, pouring himself another cup of coffee, keeping the righteous tone in his voice because he knew it aggravated his brother.

No hurt look this time, just the narrowed eyes and pursed lips that meant that Gob was getting mad for real. That look had meant being chased and punched when they were kids, and he flinched a little.

"You always have to be the favorite, the one who does everything right, the responsible one," Gob said, and the way he said responsible made it sound like a sin. He tossed his coffee cup into the sink so hard he almost broke it, and he brushed by him again as he headed into the living room.

"Later, Michael," he said without turning around, opening the front door. Through the window Michael watched as he got on the Segway and took off, the wind rippling his clothes again. He licked his lips and watched him go, wishing his attempt to have a little fight hadn't ended like this, wishing that Gob had grabbed him in a mock headlock and then a hug, his face pressed against his, so close he could feel the heat from his slight sunburn and the tickle of his eyelashes.


End file.
